


Skyfall Lodge Headcanon/Ficlet

by AtoTheBean



Series: Tumblr Saves [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M, Post-SPECTRE, ficlet/headcanon, meddlesome Q, seriously he can't keep out of bond's business, tumblr save
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: Q is essentially a problem solver... and hoo boy does he have a problem with this.





	Skyfall Lodge Headcanon/Ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> Just another bit of writing that was only on tumblr and I'm not trusting them atm and might delete my blog, so moving things here. This was done for an MI6 Cafe "headcanon" challenge part of the 2017 Fest, but mine turned into a ficlet.

Q thinks it’s utterly unfair that Bond’s family estate is destroyed in what is essentially a mission to protect M.  True, the government never ordered Bond to use it, and true, Bond seems to think little of the loss, particularly since the property was apparently sold during his “death” for some nominal amount. Q thinks this is not a case of two wrongs making a right.  The lodge should never have been sold or destroyed.

Q finds it all vexing.  It’s a matter of fairness.  The government should compensate Bond for the loss or try to make things right.  But Bond can’t be bothered to file the paperwork, either to claim the wrongfully-sold property or to receive compensation for the destruction of the structure.

When the new owners try to file a claim against the government for the loss of the lodge, while simultaneously claiming that the land is worthless without it, Q takes matters into his own hands.

And really, it’s just another puzzle, working out how to file a legal challenge to the sale.  The new owners, once they understand whom they are dealing with, seem all too happy to just get their money back and be rid of the ruins.  The cost to MI6 is a mere slap on the hand; Q can only hope that it will make them pause before declaring an agent dead in the field again with no evidence whatsoever.  

It’s a bit trickier to complete the paperwork so that the destruction of the lodge qualifies under MI6′s insurance policy to compensate private citizens when losses result from missions — you know, the odd car crashing through a window or random building exploding — but he wrestles that process into submission as well, finally content that justice has been served when he sees the settlement price offered.  The money comes in when Bond is on mission, and rather than bother him with it, Q contacts Kincade directly and arranges to at least clear the ruins of trash and rubble and make them safe.  Well, reasonably safe.  It would hardly be fair to Bond if some wandering idiot were to twist an ankle in half-burned floorboard and then try to sue him… especially since Bond is currently unaware of his ownership.

The entire outer frame of the lodge and many of the interior support walls are made of stone, and they fared remarkably well through the fire, revealing yet another puzzle: the tunnel that lead to the old chapel appears not to have been the only _original_ secret passage in the lodge, judging from the openings in the stone walls and their discrepancies with Kincade’s memory of the house.  Some passages, it would seem, had been boarded up over the years.

Kincade helps, letting crews onto the property, sending any additional bills to Q.  Q has somehow managed to convince him that this is all standard procedure.  Since Bond doesn’t return his calls about the old place anyway, Kincade just seems to assume that logistics have officially fallen to Q.  

Q doesn’t bother to correct him. 

Then Kincade starts volunteering information — the itemized list of lost items he put together for the insurance company, copies the most recent blueprints, and older records and descriptions of the house from when his father and grandfather had been caretakers.  Q accepts each new puzzle piece with glee.

After Spectre and Bond’s abandonment of MI6, one might think that Q would leave the place alone.  And he does, at least physically.  But as much as his feelings for Bond are mixed — resentment mixed with gratitude that he at least the man’s fate didn’t mirror the estate’s — his attachment to the Skyfall and the puzzle it represents remains simple and pure.  He begins working up new blueprints that he’s sure will _never_ see the light of day, merging the historic documents that Kincade continues to feed him with his own ingenuity:  secret passages and safe rooms and _of course_ modern wiring and climate control, at least in the server room.  Because what better place to maintain a secondary server array?  It’s ridiculous — the geek version of adding turrets and spiral staircases just because you _can_.  Q indulges every geeky, romantic, mysterious fantasy, and the blueprints become elaborate and elegant.  
  
When Bond returns from wherever he was with Madeleine, Q stops.  Their relationship is prickly enough at first without Bond catching on to what Q must now acknowledge is a _stunning_ trespass.  As things go from professional to cordial to practically warm between them over the following months, Bond starts showing up at the pub Q sometimes visits after work, the cafe he buys his morning tea in — sometimes after missions, Q even finds Bond sleeping on his sofa — all uninvited.  But considering what he’s done uninvited, Q doesn’t feel particularly in the position to find fault.  They might even be friends now, if Q weren’t feeling quite so guilty or if he didn’t appreciate Bond in a suit or even jeans and a sweater quite so much.  It’s torture, really.  The universe paying him back for dabbling in the man’s affairs.  
  
It’s during one of these forays to the pub — Q a bit tipsy and Bond opening up and telling Q that he feels a bit unmoored of late — that it happens.  
  
First, he’s betrayed by his own geeky humor and the fact that he _cannot_ hold his drink.  
  
“Your moorage is in the moors,” he says, giggling at his own joke.  Because, you see, Skyfall is surrounded by lovely open moors and fens, and… he suddenly realizes what he’s said and literally slaps his hand over his mouth, making James look at him even more quizzically.  He covers his mistake, changing the subject quickly, and is fairly certain that James is going to let it go when he’s betrayed secondly by his _phone_.  Which starts to ring.  On the table.  With the screen side up. Because Q has apparently let _every_ barrier drop.  
  
“Why is Kincade calling you?” James asks, recognizing the number despite the obscure contact reference of “the Highlander” on the screen.   
  
Q has already declined the call, hands fumbling on the table.  He sighs and squares his shoulders; lying at this point would be beyond pointless.  “Don’t be mad,” he says, and then realizes that this is likely not a good way to start, given the expression on Bond’s face.  “Skyfall needed sorting after…well after _Skyfall._ And you weren’t interested.  So I did it. Sorted it, I mean.  It’s sorted.”  
  
“And just what did you sort?” James asks, a slight edge in his voice.  “I thought it wasn’t mine anymore.”  
  
A full confession spills from Q’s lips.  “Yes, well.  I sorted that, too.  The sale was voided, as it should have been once you were found to no longer be legally dead.  And I sorted things with -6 to compensate you for the structure loss during a mission. Using some of those funds, I had it tidied.  Cleared away all the rubble and unsafe wood, and then had the soot cleaned off — what the rain hadn’t already managed — so we could see what remained.  And there were gaps in the walls that Kincade didn’t remember doors for, and well, you _know_ how I get with a puzzle… so we’ve been doing research and I’ve been creating blueprints and I’m _so sorry_ this is such an intrusion.  Once I started it was hard to stop.  Kincade was looking for original plans in the archives in the town church and was going to take digital photos.  He’s probably calling to tell me what he found.”  
  
Q braces himself for a tongue-lashing, but instead gets a smirk followed by a genuine laugh.  “I’ll bet Kincade _loves_ you.  He was always trying to teach me the history of the old place.”  
  
“We may have fed each other’s enthusiasm,” Q acknowledges warily.  “You’re not upset.”  
  
“No,” James says.  “Amazed.  Amused.  I really own it again?”  

Q nods.

James shakes his head, smiling a little as he takes another sip of his drink.  “It _is_ a terrible intrusion,” he adds, looking sideways at Q.  “But then, I’ve taken to breaking into your flat and sleeping on your sofa.”  
  
Q nods and straightens his glasses. “Yeah, I’d spotted that.”  
  
“And you’ve done me a favor.  To be honest, I’m relieved. For all my neglect of it, when I found out it’d been sold, I felt the loss.  And when M died there…well, I couldn’t bring myself to fight for it, but it still felt wrong that it wasn’t mine.  I was dreading dealing with it.”  
  
“I _may_ have led Kincade to believe that I had your permission,” Q admits.  After all, in for a penny…  
  
At that, Bond really does laugh.  “I can’t wait to see his face when I tell him you bamboozled him.  Expect him to refuse to speak to you for at least a week.”  Bond takes another sip, still smirking at the thought, before turning to Q.  “Can I see them?”  
  
“See what?”  
  
“The plans for my home.”  
  
It’s the first time Q’s ever heard Bond reference Skyfall Lodge as his home.  Something about it makes Q feel light.  
  
“Which version?  There are twelve so far, but depending on what Kincade found at the old church, I was planning to dedicate several hours to revisions this weekend.”  
  
“Your favorite, Q.  As always, I trust my Quartermaster’s latest and best solution to any puzzle I might be facing.”  Bond looks at him as though _he’s_ some precious, mysterious puzzle, and something warm flips in Q’s chest.

“They’re in my flat,” Q offers, feigning nonchalance.  “We could have a look and then call Kincade and see what he’s found.”

James gives him a long look. A look that tells Q that if James were to follow him home right now, it wouldn’t be _just_ for the blueprints.  Then James finishes his drink in one final swig and says, “Let’s go.”

Years later, when the Lodge has been rebuilt to be less drafty and more secure, using at least four different construction companies so no one else would be aware of the secret rooms and passages, they still take delight in surprising each other (and the occasional guest) by suddenly appearing places as if by magic.  Oddly enough, several passages lead to and from the master bedroom — to the library, the kitchens, the saferoom — not because it’s centrally located, but because James reasons that despite the comfort of the rest of the house, that’s where they’d be spending most of their time.

And as with so many things, Q is happy to acknowledge when James is right.

Original tags: #is it too late to add this? #it was just supposed to be a paragraph or two #but it turned into a ficlet #because I apparently am incapable of controlling myself #or writing something without dialogue #00q fest #headcanon #ficlet #ato writes #a new fandom #I have other headcanons #but they are far kinkier #this one was pg #00q 


End file.
